


Hell Is For Children

by orphan_account



Category: Pat Benatar (Band)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-11
Updated: 2016-05-11
Packaged: 2018-06-07 19:42:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6821527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My interpretation of the Pat Benatar song, 'Hell Is For Children'. Two homeless teenagers meet on the streets after high school graduation. Each is convinced they've had the worst life until they begin to form an unlikely friendship. Together they form a gang determined to seek revenge against the parents who victimized them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hell Is For Children

**Author's Note:**

> Strong references to multiple forms of child abuse. Graphic depictions of further abuse/torture during adulthood.

Hell is for children: Interpreting the song

-

Chapter 1: A Fate Worse Than Death

Setting: Boston, Massachusetts, Thursday, July 1, 1982, 2:17 PM

-

     A woman was thrown out  a door, hitting the pavement hard. Her clothes were thrown in a pile next to her, followed by a crumbled up twenty-dollar bill. She was in an empty alleyway thankfully, so no one noticed her nudity, except for the man who was at the door. The man glared at her as she got on her hands and knees.

"Next time someone calls your mother a worthless cunt, just shut your mouth and keep sucking, you useless whore!" The man yelled before slamming the door.

     The woman was young; fresh out of high school. Plenty of girls her age were getting jobs or going to college. A few were mothers already. Not Nichole Nelson, however. Her life was one nightmare after another. As far back as she could remember, her life had been a living hell; even her first memory was of pain and suffering. She shook her head as she sat up and got dressed.

     Nichole had red shoulder-length hair, light indigo eyes, and a bruised face. She was about five and a half feet tall and with the exception of her chest, she was approaching anorexic. When she finished getting dressed, she was wearing a black leather jacket with a broken zipper, a laced black bra with one shoulder strap, a short red miniskirt that left her right thigh exposed, and a black laced thong matching the bra. Nichole only understood one thing in life and that was the path she had chosen.

"Fuck you too, you heartless prick." Nichole muttered under her breath as she got up, slipped the twenty dollars in her bra, and slowly started to walk away.

     The people ignored her as she exited the alleyway. Prostitution was common in the slums of Boston, so she was used to being ignored. Nichole preferred it that way, in fact. The only time she would get attention was when someone wanted her services. Unfortunately, it was also the only time she got paid or got a shower, denying her the luxury of turning down their demands. Nichole figured she was a prostitute for life with the luck she'd had so far.

     She continued to walk down the street, avoiding eye contact with anyone she passed. She had bruises all over her exposed body, but no one cared. It was easier to turn a blind eye usually, as opposed to taking an unnecessary risk that accomplished nothing. No one ever gave her things like kindness, compassion, or love; in return, Nichole regarded the world with jealousy and hatred.

     After walking for over half an hour, she finally reached her destination. She was on a street that never saw traffic unless gangs were looking for some action. The only residents were prostitutes like herself, dubbing the road, 'Cunt Central'. Nichole kept to herself as often as possible, however; like her, the other women were fighting for their right to survive, so making a friend was too risky. All the women competed with each other instead, desperately hoping that they'd have food in their stomachs by nightfall.

     Her home was an empty room. In the past, it had been a sex store which her father bought from frequently. However, one of the local gangs torched the place when the owner refused to do business with them. The fire department saved the store, but the owner had been killed. The building had been abandoned for nearly four years when Nichole found it. The sign was still intact above the door. She was ashamed to live there, but it was the only empty place on the street and it had a toilet with working plumbing.

     Nichole's father kept her until she graduated for obvious reasons. When she was done with high school, he drove her to the empty alleyway in the clothes she wore now and told her she'd be dead if she ever came back. That was thirteen days ago. On the first night she slept in an empty dumpster, leaving her safe from the gangs that walked the streets. After three days of starvation though, she swallowed her pride and began her new life. She had been living in the abandoned store for a week now.

     Nichole walked into the store and looked around, still not used to her new environment yet. She walked all the way to the end of the room and sat down on the sleeping bag she discovered three days ago laying on the side of a street corner. Next to the sleeping bag was a bulky cellular phone which had been given to her by her employer. She stared at it with a look of disgust on her face, knowing when it rang she would have to satisfy yet another sadistic, heartless bastard.

"What are you looking at, you worthless piece of shit? You know me better than anyone around here, but I don't even have your number. How fair does that seem?" Nichole said to the phone, aware that she would receive no reply.

     None of the women were allowed to know their phone numbers; the employers didn't want them changing the number on them. In fact, these phones couldn't even dial out. They had the employer's number on speed dial, but other than the 'on' and 'speed dial' buttons, nothing worked. At first, Nichole would hit the on button just to hear the sound, but when her employer found out she had been redirected to the operator once, she was severely punished the same night. It was a lesson she didn't intend to learn twice.

2


End file.
